


Mend me a little bit

by AnotherLoser



Series: Return of The Nogitsune [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Possession, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 18:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17986313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherLoser/pseuds/AnotherLoser
Summary: “I could help you, Stiles.” It murmurs above his head.  One cold hand resting on the boy’s forehead and the other on the side of his neck, stood behind his desk chair where he’s been for hours already.“Not interested.”[Helps to be reading the series already but it's exactly what it says on the tin]





	Mend me a little bit

“ _I could help you, Stiles._ ” It murmurs above his head.One cold hand resting on the boy’s forehead and the other on the side of his neck, stood behind his desk chair where he’s been for hours already.

“Not interested.”He knows what it was doing, what its intentions were.It had been quite clear from the very start.

Stiles woke chilled to the bone- a familiar feeling with his current company aside from one thing; squinting at himself in the mirror he found his face pink, the tint of color spread down his neck.Still blurry with sleep he paid it no mind until halfway through the first coffee of the day, disinterestedly munching on cereal at the table.He was still groggy then.Still tired.His joints ached dully and his skin was still warm to touch despite the chill inside him.

A touch to either side of his throat, under his jaw revealed swollen lymph nodes and Stiles accepted the explanation for what it was.

He was sick.

Usually when he fell ill he could badger his best friend for a few days.They turned it into a joke, trying to one-up each other in the dramatics every now and again.Stiles even pulled his mother’s robe down from a box of her clothes in the attic.He’d call the other boy with a dramatic cough and a groan and explain just how unwell he was and Scott would laugh when telling him he was on his way.He’d bring tea because Stiles never kept any stocked unless he was sickly.Cans of soup in case he didn’t have any of those left either.They’d trudge through school assignments together and Stiles would catch up on sleep more than his share.His dad would come home to find the next they’d have made in the living room and grab the NyQuil from the bathroom.Scott took care of the rest.

The last time Stiles was sick was before Peter Hale woke from his coma and went looking for revenge and a new pack.

He doesn’t call Scott.The voice in his head offers assist.It could heal better than him.He only survived a knife digging into his gut because the monster was in control of his body at the time, and the new one it made for him was wound-free.Scarred in all the places he always had been but not actively bleeding from anything new.

The spirit could heal him, if only he let it take over.Except it didn’t really need his permission, did it? He thinks it proved itself already when just a month ago it was spitting in the faces of a couple of priests before mangling their bodies beyond repair.He may have wanted them to deal with it but it hadn’t asked for permission then.It simply did what was silently agreed upon.No formalities.Stiles was still in doubt over how much choice he actually had, but the Nogitsune still asks.As far as he knows it has yet to take over otherwise.And so it keeps asking, tempting him with the promise of his health.Unfortunately for the fox, Stiles did not value such a thing nearly as much as it may like him to.

He went to school, waving off Scott’s offer to come over when the last bell rang and instead focusing on his classes to the best of his ability.The Nogitsune, all the while, crept up on him in every moment of lost focus.Cold hands and cool presence wrapped around his form, invisible to all around them as it tries to control his growing fever.

By the time he reached home he was sweating.It was a miracle no one kicked him out sooner.A bigger one that he drove home safely.He got his wish in the end; no one bothered him, no one paid him any mind, and his head-mate had yet to force a cure onto him.

It felt bittersweet.

" _You're too stubborn..._ "

Stiles scoffs.

" _What are you looking at now_?"

Homework had gotten boring.  He forced his way through half of his assignments before it was simply too difficult to focus on.  Still, that didn't mean he was ready to just lay down and go to sleep.  A part of him just didn't trust the Nogitsune with his body in this state.  The rest of him was just too stubborn to give up and lie down now, however small and pathetic this battle may be.

Solid, chilled pressure rests against his back as the spirit leans over his shoulder to read the screen.  It seems awfully pointless when it could simply dig through Stiles' memories of this moment without lifting a pinky, but it did lots of things like this these days.  Acting like a real person.

He feels a soft rumble against him next with the creature's soft laughter.

" _Wikipedia, really_?"

"Is it wrong?"

" _Not exactly.  Humans confuse their lore often.  Essentially playing telephone doesn't help, but I suppose it's an alright summary for what people believe._ "

"Well then... Yako."

It hums.  " _What was that_?"

"'On the other hand, Yako, literally field foxes, also called Nogitsune...' sound alright to you?"

Somehow, he feels it smiling.  " _I'll answer to it.  Now you should eat.  You haven't all day._ "

"So it cares now?"

" _If you'd stop being so stubborn I'd have you fed, healed, and resting hours ago._ "

"And you expect me to believe you wouldn't just take me for a joyride?"

" _If I wanted to, I would have_."

"Sure."

He does eat though.  Only a bowl of oatmeal with Yako's arms wrapped around him.  In a better mind he might think it odd.  Might think more in depth on a number of things he's discovered throughout the day, but as it was he was sweating through the clothes he bundled himself in, his appetite remains nonexistent, and keeping his eyes open and focused was becoming increasingly difficult.  Boiled down, Stiles didn't care.

It still isn't quite dark out.  The sun is barely over the horizon when he makes his way back up to his bedroom.  It was wildly early for Stiles to pull back the covers, yet he does so immediately.  Resigned to his situation.

" _You'll sweat through the sheets like that_."

"Don't care... Y'know some people say it's better to sweat the fever out anyway."

" _I disagree_."

"I don't care."

" _Stop being stubborn_."  It almost sounds disappointed, he thinks, as it crawls onto the bed and straddles his waist like an impatient child trying to wake their parents.

"Says you... God, do what you want just let me sleep now."

" _Oh, now you want to rest_?"

"Yes! God...Please."

" _If you say so..._ "

 

He wakes the next morning hours later than usual.  Sheets dry, fever gone, no dreams to speak of, and changed out of his jeans into pajamas.


End file.
